


Fade Out, Fade In

by Perpetual Motion (perpetfic)



Category: Grease (1978)
Genre: F/M, M/M, Yuletide 2008
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-11
Updated: 2012-07-11
Packaged: 2017-11-09 15:19:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/456957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perpetfic/pseuds/Perpetual%20Motion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Danny looks down at his clothes-a sport jacket, khakis, and a white shirt that Sandy had very carefully ironed for him the day before he left. He's wearing loafers-sweet Jesus, he's wearing loafers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fade Out, Fade In

**Author's Note:**

> A huge thank you must go to Moontyger for doing a fantastic beta run. The grammar in this story is much-improved, and I doubt I would have caught all the mistakes without the help. To my recipient: You wanted light, but it didn't go quite that way. I hope you still enjoy it!

Kenickie paces his way up and down the shop floor. There's a Studebaker above his head that's got a bad steering column, and there's a Chevy sitting across the room waiting for an oil change. He glances at the clock, then out the door of the garage. Any minute now, he knows: Danny's going to pull up. He's been gone for a month, on the road for some job Sandy found for him, and Kenickie's itching under his clothes.

"Yo! Kenickie!"

Kenickie turns, and there's Danny, stepping out of a car that's entirely too sensible and wearing a suit. "You look like a chump!"

Danny laughs and punches Kenickie on the arm. "We can't all be grease monkeys."

"You wish you were as cool as me." Kenickie holds Danny by the biceps and looks him over. "You look like a salesman."

"I am," Danny reminds him and waves his briefcase. "Knives, door-to-door,"

"Loser," Kenickie taunts and steps away when Danny takes a swing at him. "Can't believe you fell for it."

"For what?"

"A quick bit of pussy disguised as house and home."

"Hey!" Danny's swing has meaning this time. "That's Sandy you're talking about."

"And she's so pretty," Kenickie says, with a an over-dramatic flutter of his lashes, "but you still look like a chump."

Danny looks down at his clothes-a sport jacket, khakis, and a white shirt that Sandy had very carefully ironed for him the day before he left. He's wearing loafers-sweet Jesus, he's wearing loafers. "Shit," he says after a few seconds, his teeth nearly coming together to hit hard on the 't'.

"Told you," but Kenickie doesn't sound particularly jubilant. He walks around Danny and pulls down the garage door. "Come on. I've got beer."

Danny follows Kenickie around the Chevy and into an office. There's a fridge pushed up against one wall, a set of filing cabinets against the opposite wall, and a desk with a typewriter set in the middle of the room. "Typing?" Danny says with a mostly-joking sneer.

"I have a secretary," Kenickie explains. He opens the fridge and pulls out two beers, tossing one to Danny. "I just want to fix cars. She does the boring shit."

Danny sits in one of the molded plastic chairs and watches Kenickie throw himself into the padded desk chair. "How's Riz?"

"Got a letter from her last week. She's taking poetry classes."

Danny nearly snorts beer up his nose. "She is not."

"Oh, yeah. Poh-e-tree," Kenickie drawls out. "Says it makes her feel smart."

"Like Riz ever needed help there."

Kenickie grins, and there's affection at the edges. "Yeah." He stares at a spot on the wall for a few seconds before shaking off and looking at Danny. "So, how's the wifey?" He says 'wifey' with all the disdain he can find.

"Knock it off," Danny warns. He thinks; he shrugs; he sips his beer. "She's all right," he says finally. "Thinks the knife salesman thing will work out. Figures I know enough about them to be good at it."

Kenickie snorts. "Because every guy in leather knows about knives."

"The work's not bad. I spend most of the day driving places."

"Yeah, from one family home to another."

Danny pulls a face. "Look, you're the one who told Sandy to ask me to stop by. You wanna bust my chops, do it without the special request. I got a wife at home-"

"What happened to you?" Kenickie cuts in. "Where's Zuko under all that upper crust shit you're pulling now?"

"I'm still me," Danny argues. "I'm still Zuko."

"Selling knives door-to-door," Kenickie says with a sneer. "Really sounds like you."

"Responsible business owner," Danny counters. "With a secretary to match."

"Yeah, maybe, but I've got grease under my fingernails. What about you?" Kenickie leans across the desk and makes a show of studying Danny's hands. "Doesn't look like the Zuko I know."

Danny stands up, clunks his beer can onto the desk, and strips off his sport coat. "All right, punk, you're on?"

"Punk?"

"That Chevy out there, what's it need?"

"Oil change."

Danny strips off his shirt and hangs it over the back of his chair. " Fifteen minutes."

Kenickie snorts. "Sure."

"Chicken?" Danny challenges.

"Not a chance." Kenickie stands and waves Danny towards the door. "It'll be fun to watch you fall on your face."

Danny swaggers into the garage and looks at the walls. "Tools?"

"Back wall." Kenickie grabs the keys for the Chevy off a hook. "Don't forget a drip pan."

"Wise ass," Danny mutters, but Kenickie hears him and laughs.

"You can bitch after you pull it off," Kenickie tells him as he starts up the Chevy.

Danny watches Kenickie roll up the Chevy and remembers when Kenickie offered him a job. He'd turned him down, knowing Sandy would wrinkle her nose and ask why he wanted to spend all day getting greasy and messy. She'd tried to change, and so had he, and sometimes Danny's not certain that either of them actually got the point.

"Go," Kenickie tells him once the Chevy's on the wheel ramps and he's cut the engine. "I'll wait here."

"You're an asshole," Danny hollers as he slides under the car. He remembers Mrs. Murdock's lectures on a quick oil change, particularly the parts about not getting a mouthful because you're being too damned showy to pay attention to your work.

"Two minutes!" Kenickie yells and kicks the foot well.

"Shaddup," Danny says under his breath without breaking stride. "Working here!" He yells in return, and clangs his ratchet wrench on the under carriage.

Thirteen minutes and twelve seconds later, Danny's out from under the car. "Told you, you dick," he wipes grease off of his hands with the towel Kenickie throws to him.

"You can turn around an oil change like that, and you're selling knives?" Kenickie leans against the hood of the car and raps his knuckles next to the headlight. "My offer still stands you know."

"I told Sandy-"

"Fuck Sandy," Kenickie practically spits out. "If she was so in love with you, she wouldn't be bitching about you needing a respectable job."

Danny looks away: at his feet, at the floor of the garage, at the used rag in his hands. "Kenick, I can't just-"

"You're either Danny Zuko, or you're not," Kenickie tells him, straightening up from his slouch. " You're either my best buddy since we stole hubcaps in fourth grade, or you're some stupid guy in a suit who's gonna stop changing his own oil because he's gotta take the wife to the hairdresser."

Danny swings, Kenickie ducks, and then they're grappling on the floor. Kenickie gets Danny by the shoulders and pushes up with his hips, and then he's got Danny pinned to the floor. "Careful, you'll crease your pants."

"Goddamnit," Danny kicks up his legs and sends Kenickie skidding across the floor. "We're not stupid kids anymore, Kenick."

"Sure," Kenickie inspects the palm of his hand for damage from the slide. "Except that you're letting your wife play mommy."

"You don't get it."

Kenickie looks up from poking at his scrapes. "Do tell, Zuko," he says with no small amount of disgust. "Tell me all about the little woman and how happy she makes you, and how selling shit door-to-door makes you feel respectable."

"I'm not a hood, now," Danny says. "I'm not starting fights to feel important."

"Do you feel important at all?"

Danny breathes out hard. "You think you're so high and mighty? Just because you have a garage?"

"I think I'm high and mighty because I'm happy." Kenickie shakes his head. "Seriously, Danny, what happened? We graduated; you ran off with Sandy and got married, and now I only see you when I make a very polite request to your wife."

"I told her," Danny says quietly. "Told her everything. Wanted her to trust me."

Kenickie blinks. He stands up and brushes off his coveralls. "Could have just told me. Would have saved me the trouble of starting a fight."

Danny grins a little. "Yeah, well, I don't get to see you much anymore."

"Tell the wifey it's done. Haven't laid an inappropriate hand on you since graduation."

"You ever tell Riz?"

Kenickie snorts. "Not a chance."

"Then you don't get it." Danny shakes his head when Kenickie glares at him. "It's different, when it's your wife. She says she loves me, and she means it, but she looks at me sometimes, and I know she wonders."

"What's to wonder about? It wasn't anything big."

"Maybe," Danny says, and looks away when Kenickie cocks his head.

"What's that mean?"

"Nothing."

"Bullshit." Kenickie takes a step forward and raises his eyebrows when Danny steps back. "If we gotta brawl to do this, I can do that, you know."

"I love Sandy," Danny says.

"All right."

"But sometimes," Danny tries to smile at Kenickie. "Sometimes my brain gets stupid, you know? Tries to convince me of things that can't actually be true."

"Like what?"

"Like nothin'."

Kenickie shoves his hands in his pockets and slouches. "Sure, like nothin'."

There's a long pause that makes Danny and Kenickie look away from one another. "I gotta go," Danny says into the silence. "Sandy's waiting."

"Sure," Kenickie says.

"I'll see you later, Kenick."

"Job's always open," Kenickie says, as Danny walks out the door. "In case the knife thing doesn't work out."

"Yeah," Danny yells without looking back. "I'll keep that in mind."


End file.
